


19 Years Later

by bisexualbellatrix (reg_slivko)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, NSFW, PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11971992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reg_slivko/pseuds/bisexualbellatrix
Summary: September 1st, 2017 was not as perfect as it looked from the outside.  It turns out, life after war is hard, marriage is hard, admitting things to yourself is hard, saying goodbye is hard.





	19 Years Later

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry whispered against the back of Malfoy’s jacket, as it was quickly shucked off.

“Shut up,” Malfoy replied, but Harry heard the exasperation in his voice and smiled.

Harry let Draco get his own shirt off while he reached around to undo his belt.  Draco gasped, grabbing onto a shelf nearby.  There wasn’t much else to grab onto in the dark closet where Harry and Draco kept finding themselves.  The irony of having gay sex in a closet wasn’t lost on Harry, but he stopped caring completely once Draco’s trousers were shoved down to his thighs and that perfect arse was exposed.  Harry sighed, closing his eyes and letting his hands revel in the feel of kneading it.  When Harry closed his eyes, and when Draco’s only sounds were rapid breathing, he could hardly tell he was fucking a man at all, and it made him feel a little better.

Harry wasted no time plunging a finger into Draco.  He heard Draco hiss and he knew he was being a little rough, and though he told himself that he didn’t care and that Draco deserved a little pain, he knew somewhere deeper that Draco loved it and Harry loved giving it to him.  Feeling Draco adjust quickly, he added a second finger, and Draco properly groaned this time.

Harry had done this enough times to know where Draco’s spot was, and he found it almost immediately.  Draco’s knees nearly buckled, Harry could tell.

Unable and unwilling to hold himself back any longer, Harry quickly pulled his hand out and undid his own trousers.  As soon as his cock was out, he was rubbing it over the outside of Draco’s entrance.  Harry wondered if their pact of silence could be broken if he waited long enough, if he could work Draco up enough to make him beg.  That experiment would have to wait until another closet rendezvous, because Harry had to get his cock inside something  _ now. _  Harry plunged in, drawing out another hiss from Draco.  Harry began fucking him immediately, not rushed yet but not slow either.  Harry let his head fall back, gripping onto Malfoy’s hips to brace himself.

Harry wanted to keep his eyes closed and continue living in his fantasy where this wasn’t gay sex and he wasn’t in a closet doing something dirty and wrong, or at least, he wanted to want that.  But really, he wanted to open his eyes and look at Draco’s muscular back and feel his cock and listen to his husky groans, and so that’s what Harry did.  Reaching around to grasp Draco’s neglected cock, Harry thrusted harder, finally admitting to himself that he knew what this was and he loved it.  Draco moaned and it was deep and raw and made something inside Harry twist in a horribly beautiful way.

“Come for me,” Harry demanded, biting down on Draco’s shoulder.

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Malfoy repeated, but Harry could feel the cock in his hand pulsing.  Harry wondered if Draco was holding back his orgasm just to spite him.  Must not have worked, because Malfoy bit back a high-pitched moan, and Harry felt warm liquid drip down onto his hand.  Harry was tired of telling himself that his impending orgasm was an unavoidable biological response, and as he felt himself falling over that edge, he thought about how good Draco’s body felt under his hands, and how perfect Draco sounded and how Draco’s smell was like winter and spices-

“I’m in love with you,” Harry blurted out as he came.  Draco’s head whipped around, and the look of post-sex satisfaction was completely abolished from his expression.

“ _ What?! _ ” Draco squawked.  Harry stuttered.

“Holy shit, you’re in  _ love  _ with me?” Draco stood up, pushing Harry away and awkwardly pulling up his trousers.

“I- I don’t know, I mean, we’ve been doing this for a long time-” Harry rushed to explain.  Draco grabbed his shirt off the floor and hurriedly put it back on, ignoring that it was incredibly wrinkled.

“Not long enough for that!” Draco spluttered. “Merlin, Potter, we don’t even talk, how can you be in love with me?”

“We should talk!” Harry suggested.

“I don’t want to talk!  Not talking was the best thing about this, and now you’ve gone and made it something it isn’t!” 

“But it  _ is  _ something, Draco.” Harry winced at how he sounded like he was pleading.

“No, it’s not.  Go home.” Draco frowned, slipping on his jacket and stepping out of the closet door.  Harry went to follow him, but Draco shut the door behind him, narrowly missing Harry’s face.

“Astoria, darling, you’re home!” Draco said, unnecessarily loud, and though he was addressing his wife it was clear he was speaking to Harry.  Harry sighed: Astoria had yet to walk in on them, but it seemed they were cutting it closer every time.  Draco didn’t talk about it, but Harry got the impression that Astoria knew more than she let on.

Harry couldn’t hear what Astoria was saying, but he heard their voices fade away and footsteps ascending the stairs.  Once it was still for a moment, Harry delicately opened the door, peering out.  He knew the drill, he’d done it too many times to count.  He snuck out the back door and apparated home from the garden.

Harry was surprised to see Ginny home when he opened the door.   
“Gin!  I didn’t think you were going to be home,” Harry noticed.

“Practice ended an hour ago, why wouldn’t I be?” Ginny asked, looking up from her magazine and smiling.  Her smile simultaneously melted and shattered his heart.

“Don’t you usually go out afterwards, with the girls?” Harry asked, sitting next to her on the couch.  She leaned down onto him, and he instinctively wrapped his arm around her.  It felt right, sort of.  It felt like it should feel right.

“I felt like being with you,” Ginny said, but there was a sadness to her voice. “Why do you smell like cinnamon?”

Harry’s heart jumped, knowing she must be smelling Draco’s cologne- or was it Draco’s skin?

“I think it’s this jacket.  I spilled something on it and it never really came out,” Harry bluffed.

“I guess the kids are still at Ron’s?” Harry asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, he Flooed while you were out, said they were asking to stay the night,” Ginny said, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist.

“What’d you say?” Harry asked, looking down at her.  He touched the top of her head and brushed her hair a bit.  She was pretty.  She was gorgeous.  So why was Harry going behind her back?  Why did this feel so different than it had when they were kids?  Now they were big kids, with little kids, and Ginny was always gone and Harry was always confused.

“I said they could stay,” she said, and she looked up at him.  Harry didn’t say anything, mostly because he was trying to remember what question he’d asked.  She looked right into his eyes and Harry wondered if she could see right through him.  Sometimes it felt like she didn’t see him at all.

“I thought we deserved a night in together,” Ginny smiled.  Harry smiled back.

“Really?  When was the last time we did that?” Harry wondered aloud.

“It’s been ages,” Ginny said, but her voice got a little darker and Harry knew she was talking about something else that they hadn’t done in ages.  He watched her eyes wander from his face to his chest.  It’s not that the idea of having sex with a beautiful woman repulsed Harry or something, it really really didn’t, but the idea of trying to lie to her any more than he already had made him feel sick.  He already felt sick, really.  It made him feel even more sick.

“We could watch a movie or something?” Harry suggested, hoping he could distract her somehow.  Her gaze shifted further down.

“Do you remember when we bought this house?” Ginny reminisced, ignoring the question. “We had sex in every room, our way of ushering it in,” she continued.  Harry gulped.

“Yeah, I remember.” Harry’s voice came out raspy.  _ I remember we had fun then,  _ Harry thought to himself, though he couldn’t decide if they were really truly happy then, either.

Ginny kissed him all of a sudden, and Harry had to fight the urge to pull back.  Her eyes were shut, tight, and Harry wondered if she was forcing herself to do it.  He couldn’t imagine her really wanting this, after so long of neither of them seemingly even considering it.  Her hand snaked its way down, and Harry grabbed her shoulders.  He gasped when she pulled away, slinking off the couch and onto her knees.

“Oh, Ginny, you don’t have to do th-” Harry began.

“I want to,” she interrupted. Harry wondered if she noticed he wasn’t talking about what she wanted.  Even if he had no right to complain, he felt invaded.

She undid his trousers, making quick work of them and pulling out his cock.  Harry was unsurprised but still disappointed to find it was totally soft.  Ginny seemed unphased though, taking it into her mouth.  Harry was unsure if he should interpret her pace as eagerness, or whatever emotion one feels when ripping off a bandaid.

She sucked with almost a determination.  Harry found it oddly similar to her face during a Quidditch game.  Except less enjoyment.  The longer it went on, the more guilty Harry felt, and the more intensely she tried to get him hard.

“Ginny-” Harry said, somewhere between a moan and a plea.  Ginny stopped.

“You’re not…” Ginny said, and Harry looked away.  He couldn’t stand to see her face.

“Gin, I…” Harry started, but he didn’t think to decide what to say before he started talking.

“You think I’m hideous then, since I’ve had the kids.” Ginny stood up, her voice cracking.

“No!” Harry shouted immediately.  At least he was being honest about that. “I’m just… I’m not really in the mood-”

“You haven’t been for years, Harry!  What am I supposed to think?” Ginny put her head in her hands.

“No, Ginny, I just-” 

“I mean, you didn’t get… I couldn’t even make you…”

“I’m not eighteen anymore, Gin, we’re not the same as we used to be.” Harry thought he was talking about biology but he was talking about so much more without even knowing it.  Ginny didn’t say anything, she just crumpled onto the couch in tears.

Harry had no idea what to say, even more than usual.  He started to walk away.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” her voice came from behind him.  He froze.  He turned back, and she was sitting up, her face red and wet and determined.

“I know,” Harry said.

“I know you’re cheating,” she said, just louder than a whisper.  Harry closed his eyes.  He heard Ginny scoff.

“Wow, you know, I didn’t want to believe it.  I wasn’t sure until… well, I guess I wasn’t really sure until now.  You bastard,” Ginny spat.  Harry cringed.  She sounded so disgusted, as she should have.  Harry knew he deserved a horrible beating or a sentence in Azkaban for breaking Ginny’s trust, but he’d rather have that by a million miles than to have to have the fight that was about to happen.   
“I’m so, so sorry, Ginny,” Harry whispered.

“You’ll never be sorry enough,” Ginny yelled. “What about the kids?!” 

“I love them,” Harry answered.

“What about me?” She asked.

“I love you,” he answered again.

“Bullshit.  How could you possibly treat me so bad and claim to love me?” Ginny got up off the couch, walking towards him.  Harry opened his eyes.

“I have no idea, Ginny.  I don’t know how I fucked this up so bad.  I never deserved you,” Harry begged.

“Who is she then?” Ginny asked sharply, crossing her arms.  Harry sighed.  So she hadn’t figured out that part.

“Tell me!  It’s that barmaid  _ skank _ from the Leaky who always makes eyes at you, isn’t it?” Ginny pressed.

“No, it’s not.”

“Is it someone I know?  Is it Hermione?!” She asked desperately.

“Merlin, no!” Harry answered with wide eyes.   
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, you’re throwing away everything we built together for some tart and you won’t even tell me who it is!” Ginny shouted.

“Does it matter?” Harry pleaded.

“You good-for-nothing, lazy, heartless-” Ginny listed mercilessly.

“Please don’t yell,” Harry sighed.

“Sleazy, filthy, manipulative-” she continued, louder.

“Please,” Harry whispered.  He deserved it, he knew, but he got that feeling in his gut that he hadn’t had in years, not since he was living in a broom closet, and even in this large beautiful living room it felt so small all of a sudden, like he was running out of room and running out of air and running out of time-

“Disgusting, cheating son of a bitch!” She finished, and Harry was so fucking scared and so fucking mad.  She had called his mother a bitch and all he could see was red.

“It’s a man,” Harry said through his teeth.

“What?” Ginny asked quietly, like the air had fallen out of her lungs.  At least she’d stopped yelling.

“You heard me,” Harry gritted.  Ginny started crying.

“We had children, and this whole time you were… you’re a faggot!” Ginny shouted, and a fist flew towards Harry’s head.  Harry caught her wrist before she hit him and looked her right in the eye.  She tried to pull her arm away, but his grip was painfully tight.

“Harry, you’re hurting me,” Ginny whispered, trying harder to wrench free.  He let her hand go.

They didn’t speak again that night.  She left without a word, and Harry didn’t really sleep.  The next morning came with silence, an empty house.

An owl came early in the morning.

_ Ginny’s here, you can meet us at the Platform to see him off. _

_ -H _

Harry wondered if Hermione had to write the letter because Ron couldn’t even think about speaking to him, even through the written word.

 

Harry waited at the Platform, watching families roll by looking excited and… innocent.  Wholesome.  Whole.  He saw the kids before they saw him, and he was able to enjoy a moment of voyeurism, seeing his children and wife, his best friends and their children, all together, happy and undisturbed by his own presence.  They were all so much better off without him.

“Dad!” His son came barrelling towards him, and he instinctively bent down, taking him into a hug.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he said.

“I’ll miss you too,” Harry replied.  He looked over his son’s shoulder: Ron looked away, taking Ginny’s arm.  Hermione gave him a pained, if slightly sympathetic, glance.

“What if I don’t make any friends?” His son’s question pulled him out of his train of thought.

Harry examined his son's face, taking time to memorize it as best he could.

“Rubeus Remus, you're named after two great men who… well, they both saved my life.  And they both worked at Hogwarts.  It was my second home.”  _ It was my only home, _ Harry thought. “You'll love it there, I promise.”

Rubeus smiled.  He had his mother's smile.

“Thanks, Dad.” Rubeus pulled him into one more hug, and all too soon he was boarding the train.  Down the platform, Harry saw Malfoy with his son, who of course looked exactly how Malfoy had at 11, and wife, who was stooped down in a hug.  Malfoy met his gaze and gave Harry a curt nod.  Harry looked away, his face getting hot.  Maybe Harry had no idea what he was doing, or how to be married- hell, he'd even botched his own affair.  Maybe Harry wasn't sure what he was going to do when Ginny inevitably left him and maybe it was time for Harry to admit to himself that nobody understood what it was like to be him quite like he did.  But only one thing mattered, and that one thing was boarding the train and laughing with friends and riding off to the last place Harry thought of as home, and as long as his son was okay, Harry was going to be okay.  Just because his marriage was over didn't have to mean it was a mistake- nothing completely wrong could beget something so perfect as his children. It was a bit terrifying, not knowing what the future held, but everything would be well in time.


End file.
